Bloomin' Broomsticks
by SleepySunrise
Summary: Back in the days when Flying Lessons were compulsory up to NEWT level, it was the only subject Lily Evans was failing...until she got a tutor that is!


**Bloomin' Broomsticks**

**Back in the days when flying lessons where compulsory up to NEWT level, it was the only subject Lily Evans was failing. Until she got a tutor...**

* * *

Even as I made my way out of the dressing room of the huge stadium I already got the feeling that this was not a good idea. The schools slick broomstick banged against my knees as I walked. The vast arena looked increasingly intimidating every step I took on the strong soil.

As I drew nearer I began to see the figure in the centre, messing about with his broom handle. As if to goad me, he kicked off from the ground gracefully and drifted in to cool evening air searching for his victim, or 'student'.

When he saw me approaching he landed quickly and smoothed his hair nervously. Not that this was any help, as I returned to its sticky-up self a second later. As I drew ever nearer I recognised to spello-taped round glasses, which had been damaged the time Sirius decided to try and hurl him out of Gryffyndor Tower. Luckily for Potter the new teacher 'McGonical' had noticed the hurtling body pass her window and quickly levitated him. Unlucky for Sirius however, it cost him a years detention.

James Potter turned to greet me, face beaming. He obviously recognised me. A bush of tangly ginger hair was a good indicator. "Evans!" He called happily "I thought I was gonna be stuck with a weirdo"

'Evans'. The dratted word that would have earned him a broken skull a year ago, now seemed almost normal, now. It was only as I got a few feet away from him that I saw what he was wearing. Comfortable worn jeans with a loose unbuttoned shirt, his shoulders covered with the Gryffyndor quiddich robes. It was then that I realised that a delicate pencil skirt and blouse was not at all suitable for what I was about to do. At least I had stowed away my wand in my bootleg in case of a major emergency.

While he had somehow matured over the summer before this year, he finally ceased persistently asking me out. We had to spend more time together due to our Head boy and girl duties, which became more and more enjoyable as time flew by. Slowly, I grew fond of him and often wondered if all those broken cauldrons were worth it.

"Hey Potter" I called back, to be returned with a cocky look. "Please, call me... Professor" he said with a flourish and bow.

He lost his bluff seconds later when he say my broom. "You're lucky" He remarked "The schools just got new cleansweep11's!" I smiled weakly trying hard to look like I understood a word he had said. "Good broom," He mused, "Twigwork is very well defined"

He shook himself then rubbed his hands together. "First, hold onto the handle tight" he said, demonstrating the action. I looked down and tried to grasp the handle as hard as he was. I already felt awkward. The handle didn't feel at all right to me, even after the four years I had spent idly gripping it while my classmates drifted in the air.

While I had been daudling he had continued on to the proper position in which to set off from. I hurried to catch up with him, tripping over the end of my broom and landed anything but gracefully on the grass.

I blushed up at him from the ground, trying to imagine what I looked like at this current moment. Ginger hair and pink cheeks rarely matched. He offered one brown hand, a quizzical look spreading over his features.

"Ok, looks like this is going to be a loooooong night" He smiled as I brushed off the dry mud from my skirt.

I'm not usually a clumsy person, but when there is a long hard pole between my legs I generally get twitchy. Then again maybe it was the presence of James that had me on edge. Every time his hand closed over my own freezing and battered one, I felt a tingle race up my arm. Not that I was awkward with his presence, I kind of enjoyed it. He was much better than who I expected to be assist me, who funnily turns out to be his best friend.

Once he had sucessfully tought me how to sit on the troublesome cleansweep, he began to demonstrate kicking off. I tried to do the same, and to my surprise, the broom rose about a foot in the air.

I laughed at my amazing feat, which caused me to promptly loose my balance and fall once again onto the hard soil. He graced me with another quizzical expression, then dropped from where he was levitating and helped me up.

"Geez" I panted, "I actually moved!" He laughed at my irony then settled me back on the death trap. I imated him again and again inching a foot higher at every push off. The night was a still one, so I didnt feel the wind beneath my wings...or whatever I was supposed to feel. Just fear, mixed with a little embarrassment.

"There we go!" James applauded as I stayed stationary in mid-air. "Now try that new steering technique I showed you!" I jerked the handle, caught up in the spur of the moment; and drove straight into him. He let out a grunt of hollow pain.

We both toppled off our brooms, landing with a thud. The hands I had threw out to break my fall were now placed evenly on his chest. I had landed square on top of him, my hair puffed around my face, like some sort of ginger bush.

Contrary to my expectations, he was smiling when I had the courage to look up at him. His eyes were closed in a look of serene contentment. I almost laughed at myself. Trust me to knock the only good-lucking/mentally stable boy in my year unconscious.

Panic shortly followed as I hurriedly tried to remember the 'recovery position' and forgetting totally about the wand stuffed down my bootleg. I decided that, the safest thing to do was peel myself off him.

But, when I started to inch slowly away, he grabbed me back, pressing my chest to his. His breathing was slow and relaxed now, which posed the next flurried question to my head: Can unconscious people breath? It came apparent that he was at least semi-conscious with his next action.

He lifted his head and pressed his lips to mine. Nothing forceful, just natural. Right. It had been a long time since I had recieved a kiss which made me tingle right to the bone.

Reluctantly, he pulled away and stared into my eyes and asked "Same time next week?"

"Whatever you say, Professor"

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**Well, there it is! I'm never happy with my writing so I decided to finally publish this to get it off my to-do list.**

**I love Lilly/James so I hope I did them some justice. Im also realy bad at writing long stories so 1,270 words is kinda a record! (Hehe)**

**Constructive criticism welcome! ;)**

**Sleepy x**


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